She would rather do him, especially with Nicole away for the day. But…she’d been keeping him at arms length for several weeks now, and she needed to approach this idea of just being lovers gently. It might be too abrupt to simply tell him she’d had a sudden change of heart. To admit that she’d been jealous of Brigit, and that it had churned her insides to hear him say he still loved his wife.
Dammit! She wanted to put her own stamp on him.
“Derek?” She accidentally on purpose bumped into him. “I was wondering—
“What?” He raised an eyebrow at her, and she wanted very much to kiss him. He was so darn cute, so sweet and sexy, and she wished he wasn’t any of those things. Why couldn’t he be a first class jerk? How much easier that would be. He’d simply be the face of Champagne, but she’d have no interest beyond that.
But no. He had to be smart. And kind. A devoted father. Hell, the guy was practically perfect.
“Nothing. I’ll just go grab my purse and then I’ll be ready. You want to drive or shall we take my car?”
“Better take the truck. I might want to pick up some things while we’re there.”
“Good idea.”
Once there, they separated. He went off to look at matching tiles for her kitchen floor, and she to check out cabinets. She found an admirable display, and then another one, and then another one. With so many choices, she realized she needed Derek’s input.
She went in search of him and found him helping a woman looking for a nut or a bolt or something in one of the store’s numerous bins—all of which looked the same. Christine decided the other woman was looking for a screw. What kind of screw was the question.
It occurred to her that this was the perfect pick-up place. She could imagine lonely, recently divorced women coming to a place like this to fix the things in their homes that their husbands had always taken care of. Women like herself. The first time she’d heard chirping outside her bedroom, she’d thought a bird had flown into the house. It had kept her awake for a couple of nights until she followed the sound and realized it was the smoke detectors and that they needed new batteries. Not a problem if she didn’t have fourteen foot ceilings and a fear of heights.
She’d realized then that men did have their uses and decided to hire a rent-a-hubby. That way she could use him and lose him.
Derek found whatever the woman needed. She smiled and thanked him, and Christine caught him checking out her backside as she walked away.
“Hi, Derek. See anything you like?” she asked with a gleam in her eye and a false smile on her lips.
“Yeah.” His own smile was genuine and warm, his attention instantly on her. “I found some matching tiles so we can take care of that problem.”
“Good. Great. I saw some gorgeous cabinets too. So many to choose from, that’s the problem. Want to offer an opinion?”
“If you’d like.”
It was hard to concentrate and make decisions on the little things, though. Colors of granite, tiles for the backsplash. On and on it went. Too many colors to choose, and one very big distraction. How could she focus when Derek kept crowding her space?
Forget Derek for now and remember why you are here, she told herself.
She wanted antique off-white doors to replace the cherry cabinets she’d had previously, and warm, earthy tones for the backsplash and granite, but there were dozens of suitable colors to choose from.
What made it all so difficult was that she couldn’t see past Derek. The sight of him, the smell of him, had her senses reeling. He looked good. Dressed in khaki shorts and a yellow striped golf shirt, he was dressed like most Floridians, but there was nothing common about him. The guy was frickin’ eye candy.
Although he wasn’t a large man, he seemed to loom everywhere. People had to squeeze past him in the aisles, and she was constantly bumping into him. The physical contact was electrifying. She was getting turned on in a Home Depot kitchen display.
She couldn’t make out the scent of his aftershave, but it was subtle and masculine, just like him. No wonder women stopped him with questions about screws, and women invited him to their homes and their beds. Why the heck had she been fighting it for so long?
He was talking and she didn’t have a clue why he was asking her to choose between colors. Neutral was good. She liked the look of one tile and matched it with a slab of granite for the countertops. Relieved that she had finally made an intelligent decision, she turned her gaze back to him.
It was laughable, really. She was behaving no better than Brigit, wanting to get into this man’s pants. He was doing her a favor, working for free, and all she could think about was the feel of him on top of her, the movement of his hips, the almost violent thrusts that had had her clinging to him, crying out for more.
Ludicrous. She was reacting like a lovesick teenager who’d just discovered what hormones were for. Perhaps Nicole was right, and she did need to date and, on occasion, have sex. It was nothing to be ashamed of. It was a primal need, as important as food and water. Well, maybe not quite that important, but it was up there.
“What’s the matter?” Derek asked. “Why are you looking at me funny?”
“I’m not.” She blinked. “Oh, okay, maybe I was staring at you. You look great.” She smiled blandly, as if the sight of him wasn’t making her quiver with need. “And I can certainly see why women of all ages want to eat you up. You are yummy looking.”
His roughened skin turned ruddy. “I don’t want to be yummy looking, and I hardly think women want to eat me up.” His eyes narrowed. “I don’t even like the connotation of that.”
“It’s a compliment. You should be pleased.”
“I’m not.” He leaned closer to her and whispered, “What the hell is wrong with everybody? Why is everyone treating me like some kind of sex object? I knew I should never have gotten involved in this dating service. You have your damn modeling pictures, so let’s leave it at that.”
“What? You don’t want me to line you up with anyone else?” She put a hand on her hip and eyed him. “You only had that one date. I can do better than Brigit. It may take some time, but I’ll find you the right woman eventually.”
“Forget it. It was a bad idea.”
“Come on, Derek. I can’t let you do this work for me without paying you, so you’d be doing me a favor.” Besides, she liked the idea of choosing his dates. She could hand select the women and make sure that they wouldn’t steal his heart away. It wasn’t the nicest thing in the world, but she wanted to keep him to herself for a little longer. Maybe it was selfish, but she wasn’t a hundred percent sure that she wanted him with anyone else. And until she figured it out—
He ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “It’s no big deal for me to fix up your place. You can pay me minimum wage if you feel the need.” He added, with a little heat in his voice, “I don’t want anymore darn dates.”
“We don’t need to discuss that now. You can always change your mind down the road.” She smiled as if to placate him. “Let’s go order and then we can get out of here.”
They placed the order and then he drove her home. When they pulled into her driveway he didn’t get out of the truck. She had the place to herself for the afternoon, she mused, and it would be such a waste if they didn’t take advantage of it.
“Derek, there is something else I would like you to have a look at. Do you have a few minutes?”
“Sure. The only thing I need to do this afternoon is visit my ma. Did I tell you I moved her into the Devonshire? She’s doing a little better. Not that I expect to see much improvement, but at least she’s more comfortable.”
“That’s good, Derek. I’m glad.”
Once they were inside, he asked, “So what did you want me to look at?”
She stopped for a second, thinking hard. “My bedroom. I was thinking of adding a crown molding and papering the top half.”
He followed her into the room, almost reluctantly, she thought. While he assesse
d the ceiling, she assessed him.
“You’re doing it again,” he grumbled.
“Doing what?”
“Staring.” He glanced at her, and their eyes met and held.
“What’s going on?” he asked.
“Nothing. Derek.” She bit her lip nervously. “That’s not quite true. I don’t know what’s the matter with me, but I have a really crazy need to kiss you right now.”
He laughed. “What is it—a full moon or something?”
“You don’t have to. I don’t blame you if you don’t want to. I’m always saying one thing and doing another. I’m confusing even to me.”
“Stop talking.” He took a step toward her and put his arms around her waist. “If its kisses you want, I’ve got plenty.” He nuzzled her bottom lip. “If it’s something else you need, say the word.” His lips captured hers for a long, heart hammering moment.
One of his hands reached up to cover her breast. Normally she would hate his, or any man’s groping, but she didn’t hate this at all. As a matter of fact, her entire body went into tingling mode.
Just goes to show that she really did need to get laid.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“What else could I possibly need?” Christine murmured as she snuggled into Derek’s body for a better fit.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.” His lips dropped to her neck, where he grazed. “You’ve been giving me that look all day.”
“I have not.” She lifted her chin in defiance. Seeing the glint in his eyes, she gave up the innocent act. “Oh, okay. Maybe it’s true. I think I must be hormonal or something. Don’t know what’s got into me, but I can’t keep my thoughts fixed on the kitchen.”
His thumb rubbed against her nipple, and it puckered and hardened. Damn. How easy was she making it for him? He didn’t even have to work it.
She stood there, accepting his caress, welcoming it, and made no attempt to move away.
His hand grew bolder. It had her entire breast cupped now. “Brigit got you wondering, didn’t she?”
“It has nothing to do with Brigit.”
His thumb was distracting her, pleasure sky-rocketing through her. In a second her eyes were going to glaze over.
“What does it have to do with then?” he whispered, his voice huskier than usual.
“Sex. Pure and simple.” She slid her hips against his. “I don’t get enough, and apparently you don’t either.” She was discovering that this new role of aggressor was actually quite titillating. Too bad she had waited forty-five years to find out. She slid her leg between his thighs and felt his arousal.
“Who says I don’t?” he said.
“I say you don’t.” She rubbed her leg against his manhood, enjoying the sexual banter and foreplay. She was fast becoming a femme fatale, a woman who used her sexuality to bring men to their knees. And she liked it.
As long as he knew she didn’t need love, only his friendship. They could be lovers if he understood the rules.
He smiled. “You’re right. I didn’t have the urge after my wife passed away, but I’m definitely feeling that urge again. So what shall we do about it?” His second hand started kneading her other breast. “Maybe we should lock the door in case Nicole comes home.”
Christine closed the bedroom door and locked it as suggested. “I’m game if you are.” She kissed him fully on the mouth, her tongue plunging and exploring. She could hear his breath catch in his throat, and feel his heartbeat pick up speed. She took her time with the kiss, loving the taste of his mouth, the heat it generated in every part of her body, the eager tugging sensation between her legs. She was in no hurry for any of it to end, wanting to pleasure him as much as herself.
Her husband had always been the one to get things rolling. She liked this new confidence in her own sexuality, and liked having control. She pressed her hips against his, and through the cotton of his shorts she could feel him. Hard. Big. Hot. And ready for whatever she had planned next. Good. She wanted him hard and fast, and often. And then she wanted… Oh, what was he doing?
He was taking matter into his own hands.
And those hands were sneaking under her top to unhook the front catch on her bra.
“I want to see you, Christine.” He lifted her top up over her head, tossed it and her lacy bra on the floor, and then devoured her with his eyes. It was a scorching look, and it made her feel young, and beautiful, and extremely desirable.
She arched her back and took her breasts into her hands, offering them to him. She felt as hot as a PLAYBOY model, and loved the sense of sexual power.
“God, Christine,” he groaned. “You are so incredibly gorgeous.”
She licked her lips. “I bet you say that to all the girls.” A throaty laugh followed, and she delved deeper into the role of femme fatale. She could do anything she wanted with him.
“Touch me,” she ordered.
He didn’t need to be asked twice. He took her full breasts into his hands and began to suck on one. He gave equal attention to the other breast, tweaking the nipple between his thumb and forefinger. As his hot tongue flicked back and forth across the hard tip, she ached and groaned.
“Yes, Derek. Like that.” She held his head and arched her back, allowing the spine-tingling sensations to ripple through her. God, she loved sex. She had missed it, missed the erotic feelings that shot through her every time he sucked and released, sucked and released. The torment was building deep inside her, and she wanted to prolong it as long as possible.
The first time between them had been quick and satisfying. Now she wanted them to take their time, and heighten both the anticipation and the pleasure.
She had a feeling he wouldn’t mind. Her hand moved to his crotch and she slowly, teasingly rubbed back and forth. The feel of him through the shorts was exciting. When she touched him in a certain way, she could feel his response—the throb and the heat as he pushed against her hand. His cock had a mind of its own, wanting to free itself and to feel her skin to skin.
Not yet, buddy.
Her hands let go of his overzealous friend and crept up his torso, pushing his shirt up. He released her breast long enough for her to pull the shirt off him, revealing his hard tanned chest. Stepping up to him she rubbed her breasts against him, loving the firm muscles, the beautifully sculpted chest, the flat hard belly pressed against her. He was a magnificent looking man. Her model. Her sexual slave.
She slipped back into the role of sex goddess, running her hands up and down his chest, scraping her nails over his nipples and then along his back. She dropped to her knees and kissed his stomach.
He went to open his fly, but she stopped him. “No. Not yet. Soon, I promise, but I’m not done with you yet. Not even close.”
He moaned in answer. She licked his tummy and dropped little kisses here and there, enjoying his increasing arousal, allowing her own to build. Finally, when she was good and ready, she slid his zipper down and released him from his shorts.
She took him in her mouth. He was slick, wet, smooth, and shaking. His knees were trembling, and his hands were in her hair, as she took him an inch at a time, licking, tasting, teasing. His moans grew louder.
“Christine. If you don’t do this soon, I’m going to explode.”
“Don’t you dare.” She laughed. “I want to come all over you.”
“Then you better hurry up.” He tugged gently on her hair so she had to lift her head. Then he bent down and took her in his arms, covering his mouth with hers.
“Your time is up,” he murmured.
“Oh, shucks. I was having so much fun.”
“Too much fun. Now it’s my turn.”
He pulled down her shorts, tugging them past her hips and over her knees, and lifted her feet, dropping a kiss on each one as he removed the shorts completely. Leaving her panties on, he started kissing her through the thin, silky material. The heat of his mouth set off mini-explosions inside her.
She was getting hotte
r by the second and felt damn near combustible. He was right. If they didn’t have each other soon, an explosion was going to occur, and one of the key players might be left out in the cold.
“Derek?”
“Hmm?” He’d pushed the silk aside, and his tongue had found her opening. He didn’t seem to be as interested in talking as in tasting her.
She groaned. “Could you stop that for a moment? I have something I want to say.”
“Can’t it wait? I’m kinda busy.” His tongue flickered in and out until it found her clitoris, and then it stopped and stayed.
Oh, my God! Had anything ever felt so wonderful? No, surely not.
Her throat constricted and her breathing became ragged. She could barely drag the words out. “I don’t want to play anymore. Please, Derek. Release me.”
He looked up at her. “Release you? What does that mean?”
She stared down at him. “No more games. I want you. Now. Before you or I have a party on our own.”
His laugh rang out. “Now you’re talking my language.”
He ripped her panties off her and kicked off his shorts, then they were on the bed and he was inside her. Her hands clinging to his shoulders, she arched her back, lifting her hips to meet his.
They met each other thrust for thrust, and Christine was taking as much as she was giving. Never before, not even in her married life, had she felt so in tune with a man. He fit her better than she had ever imagined a man could, and it didn’t matter if he was on top or if she was. They rolled around, never losing each other, a connection that seemed to spring from somewhere inside of them, a place that had been too long neglected.
“Are you ready?” he whispered against her ear.
“Yes, yes, yes,” she gasped, and with a last shuddering thrust they both came.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“You okay?” Derek asked.
Christine was flopped on top of him, half sleeping, half dead. Lifting her head from his chest, she peeked at him.
“Uh-huh. And you?” She hoped he was comfortable because she didn’t want to move. Right now, snoozing on his massive chest with him still buried inside her, there was no place she would rather be.
ESCAPE INTO ROMANCE- 4 Book Bundle Page 65